


No Reins: All The Pretty Little Ponies

by MonoclePony



Series: Saddles and Stirrups [3]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Babies, Fluff, Humour, M/M, No Reins universe, Parenthood, after the ending - Freeform, equestrian AU, it's insanely cute we'll leave it at that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonoclePony/pseuds/MonoclePony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[set a few years after No Reins' epilogue]</p><p>Marco and Jean are happy. Happier than they've ever been. They're married, Marco's father is back in the picture and another of Marco's insecurities is laid to rest, and Jean's growing in confidence day by day (like he needed the encouragement). But their next challenge isn't competitions, or exes, or long-lost family members.<br/>It's parenthood. And, well... you can imagine. </p><p>Another No Reins extra because the author is weak and cannot stop writing about these nerds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Reins: All The Pretty Little Ponies

**Author's Note:**

> I cannot stop with the No Reins verse I'm so sorry I just- *punches self in face*  
> So I always knew what was gonna happen with the dumb horse nerds after No Reins ended- they were getting married, they were adopting children. WELL.  
> And plus, this is purely happy. PURELY. It's fluffy, it's adorable, it's almost sickly with how sweet it is. So I hope you enjoy it (and it's worth the pain some of you might go through with SFS *COUGHCOUGH*)  
> I can't tell if I'll write more No Reins extras. I don't know. I just love writing them, and I guess so long as people continue to like them, I'll continue scribbling snippets. Jean and Marco being painfully domestic makes my heart hurt.  
> And Jean anywhere near kids.  
> He slays me. 
> 
> As always, you can find me heeere: attackonmyponderland.tumblr.com and feel free to squeal at me in the comments. I love seeing every squeak, trust me, makes me feel like less of a weenie for writing this fluffy sweetness.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

The thunder hadn’t stopped for three days. Marco didn’t mind the thunder; he had never been afraid of it as a child. In fact, he used to stay up late and watch the lightning crack and fork in the electric sky, eyes wide and full of wonder. As he grew up, though, the thunder became less of an amazing natural phenomenon and more of a nuisance. Where horses were concerned, after all, any change in weather usually had them nervous and fearful. Thunder was the worst culprit.

It had started that afternoon, with the bruised clouds rumbling in pain as Marco tried to jump the nervous horse he was riding over a set of cross poles. The thunder decided to crash extra hard the moment of take off, and the horse’s beautiful form broke like glass.

“Hey, hey, Abby take it easy!” Marco said as the bay landed oddly and immediately jerked his head up, pinning his ears back and surging into a furious gallop around the arena. He managed to gather his bearings well enough before Abby took it upon himself to roll his body into an extravagant set of bucks, each rumble of thunder echoed in his quivering muscles. Marco sat to each buck with a kind of ease he’d had to perfect after all the years of riding, and finally got the panicked horse’s attention by giving an almost too sharp tug on the reins. An ear fell slightly forward, and the bucks stopped- unfortunately, so did Abby. Dead. With no warning. Marco only just managed to avoid flying over the shaky young horse’s neck. “Abby, for God’s sake!” he hissed, reining the nervous stallion back with a grimace of pain. His arm was aching again. It always did after a session on Aberrant, their resident headcase.

“Well, his top line was looking great until he spooked on you,” came the comment from the fence.

Marco looked over at the speaker and furrowed his brows. “That’s the problem,” he said with a sigh, “everything spooks him. Though I guess the thunder’s a good excuse.” Aberrant tossed his head in irritation, nearly pulling Marco’s arm out of its socket as he danced closer to the edge of the arena.

The man leaning on the fence was slight, with a slender curve to him as he tilted his weight onto his hip. “You should give him over to Mikasa,” he offered, “seeing as she’s been training under Levi. It’s been long enough that she should be allowed a project or two.” He blew his blonde hair out of his eyes- it was getting too long to just hang loose around his shoulders- and gave a small smile to the nervously blowing horse. “You have a lot on your plate right now, after all.”

Marco sighed again. He knew that. Aberrant hadn’t exactly been a planned addition to the stables; he already had Titan and one other event horse to keep on top form, and a third was just going to add to the bills. Competition horses, after all, needed different diets to the riding school animals.

The stallion had been a ‘gift’ of sorts from Marco’s father; after spotting him in a local sale and looking through his bloodline, Jacob had noticed that Aberrant and Titan shared the same grandsire, and as a result snapped the young horse up before anyone had the chance. It was a nice gesture, and Marco was thankful, but he had soon found out that there was a reason Aberrant had been so cheap.

It was easy to see, really; his bright blue eyes, for starters, were usually enough to put people off greeting him like they did with other horses. It was hardly his fault, but the stark ice blue against such a dark bay coat made him look almost possessed. Even Marco, who didn’t judge any horse by its cover, was a little unsettled by them. Secondly, he was a chronic bucker and bolter. Thirdly, one word: stallion. Marco had wanted to get him gelded, but Jean had convinced him to hold back and Marco wasn’t really sure why until he saw Jean gazing wistfully in Sina’s direction. He was still trying to win that particular battle.

And lastly, he was a menace to most of the other horses except Titan. The large black gelding refused point blank to let any young whippersnapper boss him around, and the first time Aberrant had even attempted it had seen a furious chase around the paddock with Titan nipping at the youngster’s heels with screams of anger and ears pinned flat against his neck. Aberrant, not surprisingly, never tried again.

Marco walked the finicky horse to the gate, and waited as Armin opened it for him, grabbing hold of his reins in preparation for the inevitable buck or escape attempt Aberrant was fast becoming infamous for. Marco dismounted gingerly, another distant rumble of thunder causing Aberrant to throw his head and half-rear in Armin’s grip. “Woah now!” Armin commanded, and the horse calmed to an extent, though his haunches still swung dangerously close to Marco as he stepped out of range. “He isn’t your biggest fan, is he?” Armin asked. Aberrant was snorting through his nose with worry, his crazed eyes rolling in their sockets, and Marco was tempted to cut his feed rations as punishment. Instead, he merely sighed and gave the young horse a pat.

“He just needs time. He needs to learn to trust me- whoever had him before must have done something awful to get him behaving like this.” Marco frowned, moving to unfasten the girth around Aberrant’s middle and ease the heavy saddle off his back. “I can take him to the stable if you want.”

“It’s alright, I can manage,” Armin smiled, clicking his tongue at the nervous animal. “You should bring in your little family of misfits, if Jean’s got his hands full.”

Marco grinned. “Jean always has his hands full.” He patted his pocket, “but everything seems quiet, so they might be napping. Jean too.”

Armin chuckled. “Sounds about right. I can help you once Abbie’s settled.”

“Don’t worry about it, they’re easy to bring in.” He gave Armin a pat on the shoulder as he passed, hauling the saddle into the tack room.

The paddock next to the arena was the one that Titan and Sina claimed as their own; even if they were put in a different paddock, they would find a way to get into their favoured one. _That was the problem with having showjumpers at a yard_ , Marco thought with a smile. _They always found a way around the fences._ When he reached the fence he leant on the strongest part, letting himself stop to watch them.

They were grooming one another, the ultimate expression of equine friendship, and though Sina was forced to arch her neck high to reach her companion’s whither, she was making small whickering noises of contentment as she did so. Titan was playing with her coffee coloured mane between his teeth, all attempts at grooming forgotten as he merely revelled in the attention the mare was giving him. The little white ring of hair on his hind leg was becoming more and more pronounced the older he got, and now it was like he was wearing a tiny white band around his hock. But, despite his age, the gelding looked just as good as he had when he was a fizzy six year old. Littlefoot was grazing a little further away, looking up every now and again to shoot his mother a cold look for paying more attention to the black gelding than him.

Marco smiled. They were quite the little family. Titan kept Littlefoot polite and obedient, teaching the younger horse in the same way a lead stallion would teach a colt, and wasn’t shy enough to give the youngster a nip if he stepped out of line. Sina nurtured Littlefoot’s curiosity about the world, and even now he was fully rideable and an adult in his own right he would still dart back to her for reassurance if something unknown appeared. The mare barely left Titan’s side when they were out in the paddock, and Marco had even moved Titan so he could be in the stable next to her to stop her from calling to him in the night. It was as though she remembered the way Titan had helped her with the ferals all those years ago, and had decided he was her protector. And Titan was more than happy with the arrangement.

Marco gave a whistle to the assembled group, grinning when Titan whistled back. By the time he got through the gate, Titan was herding his little band towards him, giving displeased nips at a disgruntled Littlefoot’s heels. “Hey lovelies,” Marco greeted, chuckling at the way Littlefoot butted his head into his chest. He scratched a spot behind the youngster’s ears, and felt him relax. “You’re not phased by the thunder?” Titan trotted closer and lowered his head to snuff at Marco’s cheek, his white stripe looking bright and stark against the dark coat and dark sky. “Teaching them your unshakeable courage, huh?” Marco said, clipping Littlefoot’s halter on. “Your half-feral ways are good for something.”

Levi had found out long ago that Titan’s mother had been of feral strain, and Titan had probably spent the first few months of his life picking his way through coarse undergrowth and avoiding the sheer drops the Shigansina country yielded. Marco often wondered if his horse had been born to the elements, whether he had taken his first breath in the depths of a looming thunderstorm like the one ready to crack above them. Then he would shake himself and think, with a smile, of how romantic that sounded.

Marco only put halters on Littlefoot and Sina; when he clicked his tongue and began to lead them towards the gate, Titan just followed him, head lowering again and muzzle brushing the top of Marco’s head. Marco didn’t have the heart to shoo him away.

It was only when the little group clattered into the yard that Marco heard his phone go off. The ringtone made Littlefoot shy into Sina’s side, the mare giving her son a warning squeal, and Titan’s chin slid down to Marco’s shoulder, his ears pitching forward as he recognised the noise. Marco couldn’t answer it, not with a handful of horses at the ready, so he had no choice but to let it squawk and complain as he put them away as quickly as he was able. Littlefoot and Sina went in easily, but Titan continued to frisk Marco’s pockets for the origin of the noise. Marco wasn’t even sure how, but Titan knew Jean’s ringtone and always assumed that Marco was hiding him away somewhere- and deemed it his mission to find him. After Marco finally managed to coax Titan into his stall (with a grumbling snort from the gelding) he silenced the phone’s protests. “What’s up, baby?” he asked, balancing it on his shoulder.

“Took you long enough!” came Jean’s panicked voice.

“Sorry love, I was bringing in the horses,” Marco replied. “Everything alright?”

“The sprogs are awake,” Jean replied.

Marco smiled warmly. “Don’t call them that,” he chided gently, hanging the headcollars up in the tack room.

“I think it suits them. Come _on_ Marco, I need help!”

Marco chuckled. “Alright,” he said, shutting the door of the tack room behind him with a foot, “I’m coming. Just hold on.”

“I don’t know how much longer I can!”

“Drama queen,” Marco murmured into the phone, cutting Jean off mid- protest as he broke into a jog to reach the house. Still, he couldn’t deny the sense of urgency he felt as he darted into the house, not knowing what sort of state he would find it in.

What he could hear, as he stepped through the door, was the all-too-familiar sound of crying and Jean’s attempt at a soothing tone. “Heyy now, c’mon,” he was cooing to the crier, “no need for all that is there?” The cries got less persistent at his words. “There we are, just calm it. No need to get yourself all worked up into a state, is there, hmm?” Marco took a step closer to the living room, brow raised and kicking off his riding boots as quietly as he was able. Thankfully, Jean didn’t hear him. “Pappy’s gonna be back soon,” he said, and Marco could feel the warmth flowing out of his tone as the crying almost disappeared. “He’s bringing in the horses. Allll the pretty little horses. Can you remember what they look like? Do you know their names?” A gurgle. “ _Do_ you? Do you _really_?” Marco peeked around the door- and he very nearly melted into goop.

Jean was sat cross-legged in the middle of their living room, the object of his affections led on the floor with hands reaching up to grip and snag at any material hanging too close to his face. Jean was reciting the names of every horse they owned like he was hearing them for the first time and he was smiling, smiling with a kind of warmth he only reserved for tender moments. He even laughed gently at the way his finger was ensnared by the baby’s tiny palm a moment later. “Got a good grip there, you gonna hold onto the reins that tight? Before too long you’ll be riding Titan out across those moors, won’t you?” Their son gurgled in response. “Yes, you will! And you’ll go so fast, and everyone will be cheering for you! Yessss.” Marco bit his lip and leant against the doorway, watching them with heat rushing into his cheeks. Their baby was staring up at Jean with large, awestruck eyes that only a three month old could have, and for a moment Marco didn’t think his little family could be any more perfect. Then the hand not grasping Jean’s finger was yanking on his hair, and the spell was broken. “OUCH. Ow, ow, ow, Luca that _hurts_!” Jean complained, but he was frozen.

Marco stepped into the room at that point. “Luca, don’t pull Daddy’s hair like that,” he said. The dark brown eyes darted to him for a moment, and then Luca heeded Marco’s order- almost. “Or stick your finger up his nose,” Marco added. He sat down next to them to work at rescuing Jean from their monster of a baby. “Only _I_ am allowed to do those things, remember?”

“Stay away from my nose,” Jean joked, pressing a kiss to Marco’s cheek the moment he was free. “Hey, baby. He’s stopped crying now, sorry I made you rush.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind.” Marco smiled and returned the kiss gently. “You do know you could have probably pulled free, right?”

Jean snorted. “Yeah, and lose half my hair. He’s really strong, Marco…like… superhero strong.” His face fell. “Oh god, have we adopted Superman?”

Marco snorted with laughter. “Babies all have superhuman powers, don’t worry. Connie and Sasha’s latest baby nearly ripped my nose off.”

“See, I am not risking my nose.”

Marco rolled his eyes good-naturedly and leant past Jean to peer down at the excitedly squirming baby. “Heyy Luca! You wanna come for a cuddle?” Luca’s tiny face split into the widest gummy grin imaginable, and Marco had to stop his heart from exploding as he lifted the happily babbling baby up and cradled him close to his chest. Luca buried in closer, grabbing at Marco’s shirt as leverage with another small gurgle of delight at seeing his father again. Marco’s face was aching with how wide his smile was. Luca’s hair was coming through in small tufts across his head, the fuzz turning thicker every day. It was coming in quite fair, Marco noticed, and looked back at Jean. “I think he might be a blonde,” he said.

“Really?” Jean said, scooting closer. He blinked. “Huh, yeah. He gets that from me. I was so blonde when I was a baby, apparently. Then it got darker.”

Marco fixed Jean with a confused look. “Jean, he’s not-”

“It doesn’t matter.” Jean rested his head on Marco’s shoulder, staring down at the small human blinking back at him, and Marco was sure he’d never seen his face look so peaceful. “He’s ours, Marco.”

Marco nodded. “Yeah,” he said, planting a kiss on Jean’s forehead, “he’s all ours.” He then paused, brow furrowing as he looked around. “Where’s Lily?”

Jean pointed over to one of the cots set up in the room. “She’s reading.”

“She’s what-?” Marco got to his feet as carefully as he was able without disturbing the now relaxed Luca, and looked into the cot. Sure enough, there she was. Lily was looking very intently at a book Jean had propped up next to her, her little puff of black hair sticking up at every angle possible as she lay there. Marco grinned- and then realised what she was reading. “Jean, why have you given her a National Geographic?” he asked.

“She wanted to be educated,” was Jean’s reply.

“Weren’t there any baby books lying around?”

Jean shrugged. “She likes the pictures. She tries to grab them sometimes. Maybe she thinks the people are trapped in there.”

“Or she’s a three month old.”

“Our baby is a genius, Marco, and don’t you forget it.”

Marco chuckled and beckoned Jean closer, handing Luca over to Jean and picking up Lily with a gentle kind of precision he’d been terrified would never come. “C’mere sweetie,” he said, laughing at the way she wrinkled her nose and gripped him tight.

“She’s been around Mikasa too long,” Jean muttered, hoisting Luca up a little higher. “She has the filthy look down.”

“Aw, that’s not true,” Marco said, nuzzling his cheek against the soft shock of hair on her head, breathing in her baby-scent with a smile. “Why is she wearing pyjamas?” he asked, noting the cream and white spotted babygrow.

“We had an accident,” Jean replied. “If I knew that babies were such poop and sick machines I wouldn’t have wanted ‘em.”

“You don’t mean that,” Marco chided. “It’s worth it.”

The look on Jean’s face said it all, as they moved to sink onto the sofa side by side. It was worth it. It was definitely worth it.

* * *

 

When 3 AM rolled around, however, it didn’t seem like it was _that_ worthwhile. The thunder had only gotten worse, the clouds crashing overhead like cymbals on the largest brass band, and the flashes of lightning only seemed to light up their bedroom for longer. Marco groaned and rolled over at the sound of a squealing cry, scrunching his eyes up tight in the childish notion that if he ignored it enough, it might go away. But then he felt something prod him. “Hey, c’mon, wake up, the sprogs,” Jean urged sleepily, a yawn trapping itself halfway between his words.

“Jeeeean noooo.”

“C’mon Pappy, get the shit up, they’re scared of the thunder.” Marco refused. He felt Jean’s arms slink around his shoulders and wrap around his neck, and a face nuzzling the back of his neck. “Marcooo,” Jean prompted. “The sprogsss.”

Marco didn’t move until he felt a wet heat run a stripe up the back of his neck. He bolted upright, rubbing the spot with a groan. “Did you have to _lick_ me?” he grumbled.

“Yeah, get your ass up,” Jean yawned, kissing his cheek in an attempt at an apology before kicking the covers off. “We should feed ‘em.”

Marco washed both hands over his face, trying to wake himself up as he heard Jean get up and pad around their room, his yawns coming in endless legions. When he finally cracked an eye open with a little more certainty, Jean was stood over the bed staring him down. “Jean, can’t you just…?”

“No, I can’t _just_. In case you can’t count, there are two of them.”

“Your fault,” Marco yawned, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and running a hand through his hair roughly. They had had the choice, when they had gone to see them, to just adopt one of them. The moment Lily had reached out her tiny hand and grabbed onto Jean’s finger, Marco knew he was done for. The look on Jean’s face had been absolutely priceless. Unfortunately, at the same time, Marco had laid eyes on Luca. The agency explained that they usually didn’t split up twins, but it was rare for people to want to adopt two babies at once and they were getting desperate. Jean had refused to split them up, and so they came home with one baby extra. Marco had no problem with that; there was no way that he would have been able to leave one of them behind, not with the way they had looked at the both of them.

Jean just scoffed and grabbed Marco by the wrists, hoisting him to his feet with surprising strength. “Come on grumpybutt, up you get,” he said, leaning in to press a small kiss to his lips. Marco melted against it, all grouchiness gone for a brief moment. He let out a small hum as they broke the connection, wincing at the sound of a particularly yowling cry- _Lily_ , he guessed. Jean butted his head against Marco’s gently, his own bedhead sticking up rather like Lily’s did when she’d been sleeping active. Marco smiled and ran a hand through it, toying with the strands, and felt himself come to earth. _There we are. I’m awake._ “It won’t take long,” Jean assured him, giving him another kiss for good measure. “Then you can go back to sleep, baby, okay?” Marco let out a sleepy mumble of a reply, but nodded. Jean smiled tiredly. “Your turn to feed Lily?”

Marco nodded again. “Your turn to feed Luca.”

And that was how they both ended up sat up in bed, at a godawful hour of the morning, feeding two very antsy babies. Marco managed to get Lily comfortable in his arms, but Jean was having a hard time getting Luca to settle. “Hey, hey now little man, can’t get comfy huh?” Jean cooed at him, brandishing the bottle at every instant the baby slowed his movements. Luca gave an agonised wail and continued to wriggle in frustration.

Marco shuffled closer, resting his head on Jean’s shoulder with the sheer lack of energy he had. “Sweetheart, tilt him up a little more.”

Jean paused, then did as instructed. Immediately, Luca relaxed and began to grab for the bottle, his crying turning into soft whimpers. Jean offered him the bottle and it was taken gratefully. For a moment, all was quiet. Marco saw the way Jean slumped in relief, and realised that he was just as tired as he was. He gave his shoulder a small kiss and paid attention to Lily for a while, her tiny hands reaching up to try to grab the bottle from him. Her hands were resting on his, and he watched in slight fascination at just how small they were compared to his. Lily was the easiest to feed; she would just lie there and take her bottle calmly, whilst Luca would demand to be in precisely the _right_ position before he would even take a look at it. The problem was that the perfect position changed every time. They both had their little quirks; even though Luca was hard to feed, he was easy to bathe. Lily, on the other hand…

He was knocked out of his thoughts by a small sigh. It was so small he thought it was coming from one of the twins, but when he glanced at Jean he saw that it was from him. “Babies are hard work,” Jean muttered.

“Yep,” Marco agreed, turning to press a kiss to the side of Jean’s neck, “but it’s worth it, right?”

“Yeah! Yeah, definitely, it’s just…” Jean huffed. “It’s really hard, Marco. I wouldn’t mind a good night’s sleep once in a while. And we don’t get to do anything anymore.”

Ah. The _anything._ Marco knew Jean was missing it. He was too- nowadays he got so riled up for the littlest of reasons- but he knew that Jean was willing to jump him at the slightest moment if he got the chance. At least he had a little restraint, even if it was hard. “We’ll do things again, Jean,” he said, “we just have to put these guys first for a while.”

Jean sighed. “I know. And I don’t care, I love them so much, but I still make mistakes… I still get things wrong, and…”

Marco frowned. “Hey, it’s alright.” When Jean avoided his gaze, Marco sighed and nuzzled closer to him. “Jean, it’s alright. People make mistakes. You’re doing great. You really are. And I make mistakes too, it’s just part of the learning process. We’ll get there, don’t worry.” He grinned. “Besides, if Connie and Sasha can raise _four_ children then I think we can raise _two_.”

“Hell yeah we can.” Jean yawned as he looked back down at Luca. “And if Jaeger’s gonna be having a kid soon…”

Marco snorted. “Exactly. Use your random competitive conflict with Eren to get you through the days,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Come on, the guy’s easy to wind up.” Jean’s attention then turned back to Luca after he let out a particularly large burp. He laughed. “Easy there, slow down.”

Marco wasn’t going to mention the fact that Jean was just as easy to rile as Eren was, and that was why they clashed. There was a beat of silence before Jean spoke again. “I’m glad that it’s us doing this,” he said.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t think I’d be able to do it with anyone else. We… we’re good. Even if I mess up, you love me anyway.” He shrugged and turned back to Luca. “I think these guys are the luckiest kids ever, to have you as their Dad. And I’m lucky to have you too. Dunno how you put up with three babies.”

Marco let a small, tired chuckle free. When Jean was sleepy, his insecure side came out. It was the only time it raised its head, and Marco was more than used to it.  He just nudged Jean with his shoulder and offered him that self-same smile. “I love you too, you dork. And you’re not a baby, you’re a big strong man.”

Jean snorted. “Yeah, alright.”

Marco frowned at him. He kissed his shoulder. “Big,” he kissed his neck, “strong,” he kissed his cheek, “man,” he brushed his lips against Jean’s. He couldn’t hold back the contented sigh he let slip when Jean kissed him right back, soft and careful, and shuffled closer, refusing to break it for longer than was necessary. In hindsight, Marco probably knew that it was a bad idea to try to multitask. He wasn’t too bad at kissing Jean and keeping a hold on the bottle too- Jean however…

“Oh godDAMNIT.”

Marco tried to stop the laughter from bursting out of him as Luca gave his father a stern look and Jean tried to frantically mop up the spilt milk with his babygrow- and instantly realising what he was doing. He tried not to snigger at the way Jean tried desperately not to swear as he set the milk bottle down on their bedside table and got up from the bed, trying to shush the loudly protesting Luca. He especially tried not to lose it when Jean walked back in, Luca having been re-changed, and promptly stepped in a puddle of milk on the floor- making a noise he only thought little girls could make in the process.

He tried not to laugh.

He _tried._

Unfortunately, he failed.


End file.
